Achilles' Heel
by YourDepressedPenPal
Summary: She's all alone. Giving up never seemed so easy. Thirteen calls Cameron in her moment of weakness. T for alcohol. Rating may change as it progresses. DISCONTINUED.
1. A Rush of Blood to the Head

**Disclaimer: **I do not own House M.D. or any of the characters, places, or anything by David Shore.

This has been bugging me for a very long time.

I just couldn't stand it bouncing around in my poor little head, so I wrote it.

I acknowledge it's not perfect, if you spot something wrong, tell me.

* * *

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."

* * *

Stumbling, Thirteen climbed the stairs to god knows where. Hopefully it was her apartment. The world spun around her sickeningly, and it was all she could do to not vomit on the treacherous stairs. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself so she could make it up the stairs. She had been this drunk before, at least she thought she had. Things got a little blurry after her fifth round of vodka. Or was it even vodka? She's too dazed to remember. Luckily, she was at a bar only walking distance from here. Tripping, she fell face forward on a stair landing. The crack echoed around the stairwell. The pain registered to her through the haze of alcohol. This sobered her up a little.

Groaning, she reached up to feel her nose. Blood was dripping from it. Scooting back to a wall, she slumped over into a heap. With trembling hands she pulled out her cellphone from her jacket pocket. She tried to read her contacts but she couldn't seem to focus on the floating letters swimming in her vision. Tiredly, she just pressed call and hoped to any god she hadn't called House. Even in her state she knew not to call him. He would no doubt mock her to no end if he found her here like this. Wasted, weak, vulnerable. It was the only way to stave off the pain.

A voice interrupted her musings. "Hello?" A soft voice said.

"Who is this," Thirteen slurred. She was pretty sure it sounded like, "Whootis"

"What? I can't understand you," the voice said.

"Who is this?" Thirteen said, a little more clearly.

"Is this Thirteen? It's Dr. Cameron," she said hesitantly.

"Cameron..." Thirteen trailed off, very confused. How did she have the blond ER doctor's number?

"Why are you calling me at one in the morning? Do you need something?" Cameron asked. After a moment, "Are you drunk?"

"Kind of. I need someone to pick me up. Uh, can you come to...." Thirteen paused, not really sure where she was. "I don't know where," she slurred again. This time, she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol. That fall could have given her something other than a nosebleed."I fell," she elaborated unhelpfully.

The other side of the line went silent for a couple seconds.

"Okay, can you get up?" Cameron asked slowly.

Thirteen tried to get up, she really did. Her legs just weren't working. As soon as she came to a crouch, her dizziness increased by the hundredfold. Plopping back down, she whispered into the phone, "No."

"Are you injured?" she asked.

"I fell on my face. My nose is bleeding."

"Are you sure you don't know where you are?" The floor swayed. Blinking her eyes and shaking her head she said again, "No."

After that simple statement Thirteen leaned over and vomited. She crawled away from the disgusting pool. At least her nose wasn't bleeding as much. At the opposite wall, she brought her hand up to her face and pushed on the offending organ. She felt a sharp throb through her alcohol induced fog. The stab on her nose brought other pains to her attention. Her head pounded. It felt like it was going to split in two. Her nose felt like it had been hit by a hammer. Her knees ached from repeatedly falling. She hurt all over. Pains just kept coming. Some screamed for her attention, others just nagged her. She moaned pitifully.

"Are you okay?" Cameron rephrased her earlier question.

"It hurts," she whimpered into the phone, "It really hurts." She wasn't sure if all the pains were real. She still had lungs didn't she? They weren't punched out like they felt. Her heart wasn't really ripping, was it? It took all she had not to tear up. She couldn't stop the soft cries of pain coming out of her mouth.

"Alright, it's okay, I'm on my way." Faintly Thirteen heard a car engine accelerate in the background. "Are you near your apartment?"

After a moment's contemplation, "I think so," Thirteen slurred again. The spinning was dying down. She felt tired and weak. The world was saying goodbye, darkness inviting her to sleep. How could she resist? She was so tired. So very tired. Of everything. Of life. Of drinking away the pain. The darkness invited her to come and forget all her worries. All her endless nights of boozing and partying her mind away. To forget her disease, her sorrow, and her inevitable death. "I'm tired," Thirteen sighed. Her cries had stopped. Her breath hitched occasionally, but she had managed to keep the tears at bay. Feeling pride in this little accomplishment, she sighed sleepily.

"Thirteen?" the voice asked, sounding panicky, "Thirteen!"

"I'm going to sleep now," Thirteen said quietly and peacefully to the voice. She had forgotten who it was. She already felt her eyelids drooping. The pain was going away. Only her head still throbbed. Her worries seemed to slip away. Lazily, her head drooped to her chest. Only barely was she able to hold onto the phone. Somehow, the phone was important. Maybe that's what kept her from retreating into the dark sea.

"No! You can't go to sleep! Okay? You have to stay awake! Talk to me!" the voice shouted in her ear. Thirteen only groaned in response. She wanted to sleep. Why was this voice keeping her from peace? "Listen to me! You can't go to sleep. You'll never wake up! Think of what that would do to everyone!"

Unfortunately, this tactic didn't work. Thirteen didn't have anyone here. She was alone. All alone. The dark waters seemed all the more inviting. "I'm... all... alone." she spit out slowly. It hurt to breathe. Every inhale was labored. Her lungs didn't want to work. Shadows were creeping across her vision slowly. She felt like she was falling into a bottomless pit. Abandoned.

"No, you're not. You have the team. You have... you have..." the voice struggled to find someone that she was connected to. "You have me." it said hesitantly. Thirteen's brow furrowed. She had this person? This confused her enough that she became slightly more lucid. The shadows receded infinitesimally. Her breath was more haggard. It whooshed in and out of her. The rhythm made it slightly easier to think. The voice didn't even know her real name. How could it be there for her?

"What?" she slurred again.

The voice sighed in relief, it had her attention."I'm almost there. Where are you?" It was avoiding the question.

Thirteen looked around dazedly at the walls and the floor, not really taking it in. "Stairs," she tried to say. The word came out as, "Sairt..." She was slowly losing herself again. She mumbled a couple more things into the phone. It was unintelligible gibberish.

"Say it again," the voice prompted. Thirteen's grip on the phone loosened. It barely dangled in her hand, only kept in place by her head leaning against it, wedging her hand and phone against the wall. "Alright, I'm here. Where are you?" When Thirteen didn't answer, she expected more yelling. It took the clatter of the phone before she realized it wasn't up to her ear. She couldn't feel her hand. Her head felt so heavy. A thick haze settled over her body, numbing everything in the process. The floor met her face again as she fell onto her side. Her breath was slowing dramatically, the rhythm of whooshing being broken.

The wall seemed to be getting farther and farther away, and yet she hadn't moved. The lights seemed to dim, but she hadn't closed her eyes. The world was narrowed down into a dark tunnel. She could barely see the lights anymore.

Faintly, she thought she heard the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs, but she could have just been imagining it.


	2. Help I'm Alive

Wow! I didn't expect that much of a response! I'll try to update quickly! Thanks so much for reviewing! I hope you like this as much as the last chapter!

I _know_ there are mistakes so if you see them point them out to me. I've been very busy and this is most likely a mistake riddled chapter.

This is the same event in Cameron's POV.

I say she is Cameron alot instead of Allison because that's what I'm used to and I think it sounds odd saying Allison. Just to forewarn you. If it annoys you then, too bad.

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"Behind every beautiful thing there is some kind of pain." ~ Bob Dylan

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A shrill ring broke the silence in Allison Cameron's apartment. She jerked awake, gasping at the sudden noise. The phone persisted in its loud tone, urging her to take the call. She had been having a good dream. Something about a nice car and cake. The phone rang again. Groaning, she rolled over in bed, wishing for it to stop. All she wanted was one good night's sleep without House or Chase or anybody bothering her at a ridiculously early time in the morning. Glancing at the clock, she flinched at the phone's third ring. She blindly grabbed the wireless from its cradle. The phone still rang even though she had pressed talk. Staring dumbly at the device, it took another second for her to realize it was her cellphone. Slowly, she sat up and snatched the cellphone off her nightstand and unhooked it from its charger.

Fully intending to yell at the other person, she blanched when she saw the number. It said Thirteen in glowing, bright letters. How the hell did she have her number? How did Thirteen have her number, her cellphone no less! She flipped open the phone dubiously and said, "Hello?" She was met with startlingly loud breathing. She sat there with the phone up to her ear, waiting for a response. Just as she decided it was a fluke and was about to flip her cellphone shut, she heard a severely distorted voice say, "Whootis?"

Baffled Cameron replied, "What? I can't understand you."

After the person cleared her throat, she said, "Who is this?" Although the voice was slightly slurred, Cameron thought it really sounded like Thirteen. She slipped off her bed and walked into her kitchen, fairly sure she wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

"Is this Thirteen? It's Dr. Cameron," she said hesitantly. If it wasn't, she just gave some creeper her phone number and name. _Please be Thirteen, Please be Thirteen_ Cameron thought like a mantra, she didn't have the energy to deal with a stalker. It had happened before. She shivered. It wasn't really something she wanted to relive.

"Cameron..." The blonde sighed in relief, it was Thirteen because she detected recognition in the voice. Thirteen also seemed very confused, disoriented even? Maybe she was wondering why she had Cameron's number too? Then again, she did call her. Slowly, she set down the sugar she pulled out for tea she was going to make. Once again, Cameron found herself waiting for the doctor to finish her sentence. She was getting impatient. Her warm bed was calling to her. So was her tea.

"Why are you calling me at one in the morning? Do you need something?" Cameron asked. Just then, Thirteen's tone of voice sunk through her. She sounded drunk. Being her blunt self, she blurted out, "Are you drunk?"

"Kind of," Thirteen said sheepishly. Cameron sighed, she did not want to pick her up. She hardly even knew the young woman. She planned on drinking some tea, taking some Ambient, and sleeping for a long time. "I need someone to pick me up." Damn. Scratch that. "Uh, can you come to...." Thirteen paused, "I don't know where," she slurred again. That wasn't good. How could Cameron pick her up if she couldn't find her? Cameron opened her mouth to say something particularly nasty when Thirteen added, "I fell." She sounded very somber as she said this.

This sent Cameron into confusion. Why was she calling her if she fell? She seemed like she was capable enough to deal with falling by herself. Although in her state she might not be able to stand up straight. Cameron hoped Thirteen wasn't too drunk. She sounded pretty tipsy."Okay, can you get up?" Cameron asked slowly. She had to gauge how drunk she was.

Cameron heard a slight scuffle, a stumble and a dull thud. It was followed by Thirteen whispering, "No." She sounded scared. This panicked Cameron a little. Thirteen, scared? After all the stories she had heard, she was a hard-ass and House-like, who could stand through any kind of problem by herself no less. Why would she sound frightened?

"Are you injured?" she asked. It could cause some disorientation.

"I fell on my face. My nose is bleeding." That could mean a concussion. It wouldn't help if you coupled it with her clumsiness and alcohol levels.

"Are you sure you don't know where you are?" Cameron tried again. Walking over to her closet, she slipped on her shoes and a decent jacket. It sounded like she wasn't going to get any rest after all.

Thirteen's breath hitched, she replied with a faint, "No." She really wasn't helping the situation. She rustled through her purse looking for her keys. After a soft "Aha!" she stepped out of her apartment and into the hallway. About halfway down the stairs, Cameron heard a retching sound followed by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor. Cringing, she waited it out. After a rustle of clothes and some more of that ridiculous heavy breathing, she heard a pitiful moan. Cameron asked, "Are you okay?"

"It hurts," Thirteen whimpered into the phone, "It really hurts." Cameron froze for a second. Panic swept over her. It sent her into a frenzy. She couldn't stand the pained and anguished tone of her voice. It hurt her. Physically hurt her. She had to get to Thirteen. She jogged down the stairs as fast as she could without , cries of pain started to pour from her cellphone as Thirteen whimpered in pain. She jumped in her car and slammed the ignition key forward, praying she didn't snap the key. As soon as she heard the car engine sputter to life, she was off.

"Alright, it's okay, I'm on my way," she assured Thirteen. Slamming the gas pedal, she avoided the measly traffic at one in the morning. "Are you near your apartment?" she asked. She had no idea where she was going. Fortunately, due to Cuddy's urging, she had memorized the youngest member's apartment number in case she showed up in the ER as an overdose and couldn't give her apartment number. Cameron had scoffed then, but now that information was vital and pretty accurate. "Are you near your apartment?"

After a couple seconds pause, "I think so," Thirteen slurred. Her cries had subsided to occasional whimpers. The whimpers eventually receded into only a slight hitch in her breath every now and then. The steadiness and frequency of her inhalations were very different. While earlier they had been very loud and uneven, now they came and went, seeming to get slower every time. Cameron's one hand grip on the steering wheel tightened and her foot itched to push the gas pedal to the floor.

Then, so quietly she thought she imagined it, Thirteen whispered, "I'm tired."

"Thirteen?" she asked. When no one answered she exclaimed, "Thirteen!"

"I'm going to sleep now," Thirteen said very serenely into the phone. As if she was only going to take a short nap. Cameron knew better. If she fell unconscious, she might never wake up. Fear gripped her heart so strongly, Cameron thought she felt her heart literally stop for a fraction of a second. Before she could think she was yelling into the phone.

"No!" she shouted, "You can't go to sleep! Okay? You have to stay awake! Talk to me!" she demanded. If she could talk to her, she could keep her awake. She could keep her alive. She had to. Thirteen only groaned in response. At least it was something. "Listen to me! You can't go to sleep. You'll never wake up! Think of what that would do to everyone!" she tried to convince her.

It didn't work. Thirteen's voice cracked as she struggled to say three words. Three words. "I'm... all... alone..." she sighed. It was getting very hard to understand her. It wasn't hard to hear the longing and abandonment behind those words. It made Cameron's already aching heart pound for this lost soul.

"No, you're not. You have the team. You have... you have..." she struggled to find one single person she was connected to. She couldn't think of anybody. Blurting out the only thing she could think of she said, "You have me." Cameron bit viciously at her lip. How would she take that? Why did she even say that? How could she say that?

"Wha... ?" Thirteen mumbled into the phone. Cameron sighed in relief. She had her conscious and she was pulling nearer to the apartment complex. "I'm almost there. Where are you?" she asked for the hundredth time. She had never gotten a clear answer. All of a sudden Thirteen's labored inhalation intensified and her breathing became shorter and harsh. Cameron's hands started to shake in fear.

"Sa..irt s... sa... iirrs. saiirr. " she gasped and mumbled the gibberish into the speaker. Cameron couldn't understand anything. She was losing her speech. Cameron glided into a parking spot and jumped out of the car. After locking her door she literally ran for the front door at breakneck speed.

"Say it again," Cameron ordered her, she had to know where she was. She might not find her in time. Bursting through the doors, she saw no one anywhere. "Alright, I'm here. Where are you?" she pushed again. Her nerves were at a breaking point, stretched like a tight wire. Shivers rolled down her spine and her stomach jumped to her throat. She had yet to receive an answer. "Thirteen! Thirteen! Goddammit!" She heard the phone clatter away and tumble. Tumble? A cellphone doesn't clatter more than once on a flat surface. Sairs... Stairs... The stairs! Cameron snapped her phone shut and sprinted up the stairs.

She couldn't go fast enough. Her heart raced and her palms were sweating. Adrenaline ran through her as she pushed her muscles to the limit as she jumped up the stairs two or more at a time. What if she didn't make it? No. She couldn't think of that. She had to make it. She would make it. Her hair swished as she ran as fast as humanly possible up the stairs. Where was Thirteen? Was she not here? She had already been up two flights. Surely she hadn't gone farther? Where the hell was she? She didn't have much time. Where was she? Cameron stopped at the fourth floor landing. She gasped for breath. Thirteen's apartment was on the fifth floor. She didn't see anything on the landing above.

Where was Thirteen?

Frantically, Cameron did the only thing she could think of. She called Thirteen again. Her mouth was dry and she was gasping for breath after her sprint. Her own labored breathing almost made her miss the soft chimes coming from the ground. In her confusion, she looked down at her feet. A cellphone was laying near the corner! Holding her breath, Cameron picked it up and saw in clear, blue letters the words, Dr. Cameron. She almost jumped for joy right then. Dropping the cellphone unceremoniously, she pounded up the stairs.

Ten stairs left. Six. Four. Two. One.

She stopped. What she saw broke her heart and froze her with fear.

It was Thirteen alright.

She was sprawled out across the floor with her arms by her side, as if she had been sitting when she collapsed. Her hair was askew and was covering part of her face. Her legs were bent at what looked like a very uncomfortable position. What sent Cameron into action was not the fact she stepped into a pool that reeked. It was not the fact her cellphone chose that moment to ring shrilly. It was Thirteen's blank expression. She looked dead. Her eyes were glossy and glazed over. One pupil was almost completely blown. They were wide open. Not even halfway closed. They stared off into space, through everything, as if though she was seeing something no one else could or would.

"Oh God," Cameron cried as she rushed over to the pale doctor. With trembling hands she felt for a pulse. There was one. Oh so faint but there. But Thirteen wasn't breathing. "Shit!" Cameron cursed. Frantically, she pushed the doctor on her back and listened for anything. There was nothing. Panicking, she picked up the phone with shaking hands and answered it, laying it on the floor and pressing the speakerphone button.

"Call 911!" she yelled, not even giving the speaker time to say hello. She tilted Thirteen's head back and began mouth to mouth. Thirteen smelled like sweat, vomit, and alcohol. Blood was dried and crusted under her nose. She looked like death. She might be dead. _No! She won't die!_ Cameron thought desperately. "She can't!" she cried again, finishing her thought.

"Allison? What's going on?" an Australian accent asked anxiously through the speaker.

"Just call 911 Chase, Dammit! Don't hang up either! It's not me! I'm at 401 Lawrence Drive in the stairwell!" she shouted at the phone.

"Okay, Okay, I'm calling. Allison, I'm going to have to tell them what happened," Chase trailed off, trying to coax her to reveal why she had this emergency. Why was he so calm

"Just make the call!" She shrieked. A lone beep came from the phone, indicating she was on hold. She had been doing mouth to mouth for quite awhile with no response. Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked down at the small figure in front of her. She was too young. It was too fast. She still had time. They could find a cure in time.

"Breathe!" she sobbed, "Breathe, Thirteen, just breathe!"

There was no response. Cameron choked back sobs. She had to breathe.

"Don't give up," she whispered, "I know what it's like," she continued. Tears streamed down her face as she mourned for Thirteen, and for her dead husband. She mourned her loss, she mourned Thirteen's loss. To watch someone you love die is agonizing. To experience it yourself must be enough to destroy you. It looked like it already had. "I may not know exactly what your going through but... You can't give up! Life goes on. So fight!" her voice steadily rose until it was ear shattering. She grabbed the doctor by the collar and shook her as she spoke. Cameron was far past being sane or reasonable. She just wanted this young woman to live. "You have to fight! You have to breathe! Just take a breath!" Pausing for air, she stared at Thirteen a moment more.

Everything was silent in the room except for a single shuddering intake of breath.


	3. In the Dark

"Death. I smile at the word. Death, you ask? Conquerable. Life, you say? Well, now that's deadly."

* * *

Thirteen floated dreamily through the dark waters. All see can see is a deep, dark black surrounding her. Surprisingly, it is peaceful in this dark abyss. No noise, no stress, and no tragedies await to grab her by the throat. She could stay here forever. The sea is much too big for only her, and yet she sees no one. Nothing floats by her. All she does is drift and dream. She finally felt at peace. She feels... home. Though it may not be the four walls and a roof kind of home, it welcomes her. The dark water holds her gently, occasionally swaying her to the point of rocking.

The water starts to throw her. It churns around her, pulsing and alive. Breathing. Tendrils of black reach for her. Something yanks her upwards. It feels as if an invisible hand is jerking her to the surface. The water swirls beneath her. It looks angry. Why can't she swim back? The force drags her upwards. She struggles, her arms flailing uselessly as she continues to rise. She wants to stay. It's peaceful. It's painless. The hand gives another harsh push. Urging her to leave. She fights. There's nothing to fight against. Hazily, sunlight seeps through the abyss. The water recedes. It looks on sadly, as if it has lost a friend. The hand pulls her to the surface. She stays under. Floating just below the surface. She can taste the air above. She doesn't want to stay any more. Why has she stopped? Why can't she leave? Something pulls her upwards one last time, shoving her through the water and into the light.

Gasping, Thirteen is brought to the present. Her head still hurts. Everything swirls around her. Colors and faces blend together in a chaotic collage of the world. Light stings her eyes. She was fairly sure there was someone with her. She struggles to focus. To make sense of the patterns and shapes of the scene before her. Slowly, it comes together. She's lying on the ground with a worried figure crouching over her. Who is it? The bright light shining behind this person- no, woman, she recalls -sets her face into shadow. She blinks rather slowly. Her eyelids are very heavy. She dares not blink again. She gazes blankly around the revolving room.

"Thirteen," she hears being called softly, who was that? Was that someone else in the room? Oh wait, it was her. Her boss, House had given it to her. An unspoken joke if you will. She was still surfacing. Facts came into place. Puzzle pieces slowly fit together. As she became more aware, she discovered the woman was not only talking to her, but wailing and crying too. Why would she cry? Thirteen thought dazedly. What was there to cry about?

"Thirteen!" the voice yells again, shrilly. Thirteen flinches, must she talk so loudly? Her mind tries to piece together the puzzle and understand the picture in front of her. Sluggishly facts return. She had fallen. She had been drunk. She had called someone. Who had she called? Was she drunk before she fell or after? Her brain hurt with all of the thinking she was doing. Reorganizing thoughts and then throwing them out. Her chest heaved as she took halting breaths, in and out. Someone was also narrating these actions to her. She was a little grateful, she could not remember how to breathe. Of course she could breathe, she just didn't know why. Or the reason to. She was so very lost.

"Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing until we get you to the hospital to relieve the pressure on your brain," the voice soothed. Blonde hair appeared on the figure, and a face started to form. Who was it? Thirteen squinted her eyes in an effort to see who this woman was. Mild curiosity was all she could muster. Feebly, she tries to raise her head with no effect. The muscles in her neck strain to do their job, but her head is so heavy. It feels like a dead weight on her neck, dragging her down. She is to tired to move. Her muscles ache and her head pounds.

The voice says calmly to her, "I'll get you to the ER safe and sound, we'll take care of you there."

Finally, the picture snaps into place. The ER. The blonde doctor who works there. Dr. Allison Cameron. Somehow, she had gotten her number. Somehow she had gotten here. When had she gotten here? The last thing she clearly remembers was giving in. She had been so tired. Cameron ad been the voice screaming in her ear not to sleep. Not to give in. But she had been so tired. Her bones had ached for sleep and her body craved the solitude and peace it so desperately needed. Now her body did no such thing. Thirteen had to will every part of her to do its function. Her lungs were so stiff as she panted and gasped. Her mouth open and closed like a fish out of water. She felt like one. Had she not been drifting peacefully in the dark abyss but moments ago?

"Wh...Wha... Ha...Hap.." She struggled to say breathlessly. Her lungs were so sore. It hurt to breathe. She felt like someone had thrown her into some other world where things didn't make sense. Where it hurt to breathe. Where you couldn't talk. Where no one would listen.

"Shh, save your energy," Cameron cooed. "Help is on the way. You have what looks like a TBI, we'll determine what kind after a CT scan."

So that fall had injured her brain. That is what happened wasn't it? Wasn't it? Everything was so foggy. Everything was fading. She couldn't remember. She couldn't think. Her head screamed in agony. It felt like it was being slowly stripped apart piece by piece. Why wouldn't it stop?

"I...t... hur...t...s" she choked out slowly. The darkness was coming back.

"I know Thirteen, you just have to stay awake," Cameron said gently. Somehow she had calmed when Thirteen flinched. Why? Nothing made sense. It was hard to think over the pounding in her head. Thirteen merely stared blankly at Cameron. It was all she could muster up doing. Cameron looked at her with pity. She hated that look. The look that people give you when they think they know your lost or hopeless. It's like they've given up on hope for you. Or when they think they know what's wrong. They don't. They know nothing. She got that look at her mother's funeral. She received it when her father looked at her during those long months. They looked at her like that when they heard about her diagnosis. Thirteen hated that look.

With all of the anger she didn't notice her eyelids slide shut ever so slowly. The world wasn't saying goodbye. This time, she wasn't planning on going. She was exhausted but she didn't want to leave. Not yet. Not until she proved them wrong. All of them. She needed no pity. She was coping. She would thrive. She would live.

The darkness swallowed her whole.

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**A.N. **Before you kill me, I thought I'd let you know it will all be explained in a few chapters!

Review Please! It makes me happy!


	4. Speed of Sound

**A.N. **I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait and confusion. Life's been very cruel to me lately. It's a lame excuse but, it's the truth.

Also, this is probably the last chapter that covers the same event. They will hopefully be staggered now, not two POV's of the same scene.

_I acknowledge all mistakes as my own, this work is unbeta-ed. I tend to slap it up with no reading through as soon as I finish. I hope this chapter was worth the hellish wait I put you through.  
_

* * *

"On a large enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." Chuck Palahniuk

* * *

Cameron resisted the urge to slap Thirteen for her stupidity when she took in an unsteady breath. The only thing keeping her from exploding was her medical training. That and the fact the far off sirens could be heard of what hopefully was an ambulance. Taking a deep breath, Cameron leaned down to see if her breath was becoming constant. The slow rhythm she heard from the still form calmed her. She was afraid Thirteen was bleeding into her head. When she had checked Thirteen's injuries, she had discovered a prominent knot, much to her dismay. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Cameron tried to rouse Thirteen.

She pinched Thirteen as hard as she could, to gauge her response. At first, there was no reaction at all. Cameron waited, and every single second seemed to take an eternity. Slowly, Thirteen let out a soft groan. It was so low, Cameron almost didn't hear it over the sirens that were steadily increasing in their volume. Thirteen shifted slightly in her position on the floor. Cameron quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her from moving and further injuring herself.

"Thirteen? Can you open your eyes?" Cameron asked through her hot tears. She received a small moan in response. With apparent effort, Thirteen's eyelids rose lazily. Her unfocused eyes contemplated the room. She blinked slowly. "Thirteen?" Cameron asked again cautiously. Her voice was high and timid. Thirteen's brow furrowed the tiniest bit after she called her nickname. Cameron wasn't quite sure if she had understood her. Thirteen's eyelids chose that moment droop dangerously low, sending Cameron's heart into a frenzy.

"Thirteen!" she screamed, the panic choking her. Thirteen shrank away from the noise, as if her voice had caused physical pain. Her eyes widened and slowly started to focus. Finally showing some awareness, they darted around the room and Cameron let out the breath she hadn't know she'd been holding.

"In and out," she instructed to the dazed woman. Thirteen mimicked what her voice said, seemingly unable to do anything else.

"Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing until we get you to the hospital to relieve the pressure on your brain," she pleaded. The blood coming from her nose could indicate a fracture to her skull. Cameron saw the tendons in Thirteen's neck stand out, as if she's trying to lift her head. "I'll get you to the ER safe and sound, we'll take care of you there." she reassures, turning into doctor mode. Her emotions are slowly boxed up and she becomes detached. That was one thing the ER had forced her to learn, to be cool and collected. Unemotional.

This didn't prevent her from feeling worry as Thirteen tried to talk.

"Waapn," she rasped, still managing to sound slightly coherent despite the random syllables. Her face scrunched up as she tried to talk clearly. Cameron's walls to keep her calm broke down a little at her effort. "Wha.. hapn"

"Shh, save your energy," Cameron cooed. "Help is on the way. You have what looks like a TBI, we'll determine what kind after a CT scan." Reassuring was a way to keep both of them calm. Those sirens had reached a ear piercing level. She could hear the paramedics clattering up the stairs.

"It hurtss," Thirteen slurred heavily. Her eyelids drooped and her eyes rolled upwards into her head. Cameron can hear the paramedics on stairs behind her rustling around.

"Shit!" Cameron swore. She pried open Thirteen's eyelids while she cursed the whole damn universe. A large white clad hand grabbed her shoulder, gently pulling her away from the unconscious doctor. "No!" she yelled, not wanting to leave the broken figure underneath her.

"Ma'am, you need to move so we can treat her injuries," a soft voice says. Other paramedics brush past Cameron, disregarding her existence. This was the spark that lit the fire. Her bottled up emotions exploded and she felt such fury at this person trying to stop her it took all the self-control in her body to not turn around and punch the man.

She twisted sharply out of his grasp and spat vehemently, "I'm a doctor. Take her to Princeton-Plainsboro. Call them to tell them to receive a incoming patient, Dr. Hadley."

The man's eyes widened slightly at her tone, and his boyish face showed shock and surprise. She set her face into such an expression, the man takes a step back with the hand previously on her shoulder raised. "O-okay," he stuttered. He's obviously new. Cameron felt anger that they would send such inexperienced personnel anywhere. Another older paramedic looked up with a complicated expression, momentarily distracted from assessing and reporting Thirteen's injuries. His brown eyes flashed between Cameron's face and the new guy's before snapping back to Thirteen's face.

"Just go, Jones," he said tiredly. When he didn't hear the guy move he snapped, "Make the call!"

The idiot stumbled off to God-knows-where and Cameron focused her attention back to the three men prepping Thirteen for transport. Their faces showed concentration and detached concern. After they were satisfied, they lifted her onto an emergency stretcher. She looked on, locked into place, feeling absolutely useless. Thirteen's face was obscured by an oxygen mask. Her mouth was slack but her brow was furrowed in what could only be assumed as pain. Cameron's anger fizzled out as quickly as it had exploded at the expression on the young doctors face.

"Do you think you can wake your friend up and keep her conscious?" a voice asked as they stood, lifting the stretcher simultaneously. Cameron's eyes slipped upwards from their transfixed stare of the figure on the stretcher to the man who had spoken earlier.

"I can try," she answered hesitantly, standing up. The older paramedic's hazel eyes searched through her green one's briefly. He nodded as an answer to unspoken question that flew between them. Snatching up her cellphone, she stiffly walked over to the stretcher, her knees adjusting from being crouched to walking. "Dr. Hadley?" she said uncertainly, not sure if she should call her by the widely used nickname. It almost would seem tainted if she said it with strangers around.

The group started to clumsily descend the stairs, struggling to jostle Thirteen as little as possible. Cameron lagged behind, unable to squeeze in between the wall and the stretcher. Her gaze remained fixed at the brunette being carried down the stairs. Every sound was intensified by the silence that had fallen among the group, only broken by the occasional relay of information or the hiss of oxygen. A loud set of footsteps could be heard from the landing below. The red faced paramedic "Jones," stopped mid-step. He looked a little flabbergasted and stammered out, "Oh, I thought you guys would need, uh, never mind." He started down the stairs again, but not before his face flashed strawberry red.

Cameron rubbed her forehead in annoyance, and resisted the urge to make a comment about IQ levels. To distract herself she said, "I was thinking some sort of TBI. " A dark haired man peeked back and frowned. "She said she had fallen," Cameron added defensively. She ran a hand nervously through her hair.

"Most likely. Her pupils are dilated unevenly and the loss of consciousness could indicate some internal bleeding," the man responded. "BP slightly elevated," he shot off after a moment's silence. They reached the last landing after this statement and the sirens reached there peak. All of the paramedics started to rush toward the ambulance, leaving Cameron to fend for herself. The group drew her in like a magnet, and she found herself following them anyway. Their actions were smooth and fluid. They worked together like a well oiled machine, every move calculated and well practiced. She nervously walked up to the brown eyed man.

He glanced at her and ordered quickly to the three in the back, "Get her on an IV, and try to wake her up." The doors shut, and Cameron felt her throat close up. She wanted to ride with them, to make sure that everything was okay and to make sure that idiot didn't screw anything up. The man disappeared along the driver's side ambulance. She stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to move. Curiously, a face popped back around and asked, "You coming?"

She nodded jerkily, her legs feeling like lead as she walked to the opposite side of the ambulance. Clambering into the side of the rumbling vehicle, she felt the weight of the night settle in. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the blue leather of the seat. She tried to take deep breaths through her nose, inhaling the musky air and the slight sting of antiseptic. She realized as she sat there, how exhausted she was. When she had gotten that call from Thirteen, it had been one in the morning after her 20 hour hell of a shift. The adrenaline had kept her going until now. The effects were wearing off and she felt a heavy fog of lethargy sweep over her. A crackling voice broke the spell, pulling her back to the real and very hectic world.

"We need emergency vehicles to report back to the pile up on Nassu Street, over," a male voice droned. Harris (as a flash of blue and red glinting off of his name tag had revealed to her) grimaced and picked up the transmitter, saying a few words to the dispatch and then dutifully reporting the situation. When he finished, he set the speaker down with a sigh. He threw a question over his shoulder as he turned onto a busy street, speeding along as cars parted to let them pass.

"How's she doing?"

"She's stable, and we've managed to get her conscious for now," came a reply from the backseat. Cameron twisted around after this answer, struggling to catch a glimpse of the brunette's face. She heard a bit of a scuffle and saw the doctor's head twist from side to side. One of the paramedics grabbed her wrists, gently preventing her from any movement. Cameron bit her lip, unable to decide whether or not to try to navigate the crowded space to calm her. The pull toward the young woman was overwhelming, and she found the longer she stayed anywhere close to the damaged girl, the stronger it became. Worry ate at her, and she felt the impulse to grab Thirteen and never let go.

"We're here," Harris said hurriedly. "Damn," he muttered just loud enough for Cameron to hear. She turned to see the problem. Her eyes widened at the amount of ambulances moving in and out of the loading bay. They looked like a flock of birds swarming in and racing off to the next disaster as soon as they departed with their patients. The only other time she had seen this was when the bus crash had... Oh no.

"This pile up on Nassu," she started abruptly, "How bad is it?"

Harris looked over at her and grimaced again. "You heard that? Well, it was pretty bad. A motorcycle braked to let some stray dog pass, and the car before him slammed on the brakes, the car before that one slammed on the brakes... You get the picture," he stated, "Ends up there is a twelve car pileup." He chuckled sardonically before he added, "All over a stupid dog."

Cameron rubbed her forehead in an attempt to ward off the exhaustion and the mental breakdown that was sure to ensue after this night full of shitty situations. She asked tiredly, "How old was the man on the motorcycle?"

"Um, late forties, early fifties I think," he replied as he stopped the ambulance in front of the door, where anxious doctors stood in their yellow gowns, ready for anything. "Let's get her in here!" he shouted over his shoulder, hopping out of the door. He jogged to Cameron's side and opened the door for her, offering her a hand.

As she took his hand, she felt relieved that finally Thirteen was going to be treated. She jogged over to the already crowded gurney of said person, following along as they burst through the ER doors, walking through the aisles with urgency and purpose, shouting over the tumult of noise from all of the victims in the area. She walked along silently, gnawing at her lip viciously, all the while cursing House to no end.

_I swear to God, if House is hurt, I think I'm going to explode from all of the anxiety._

She felt something grab her hand, and looked down to see a disoriented Thirteen reaching for her. She flipped it over so Thirteen could get a grasp, and watched as her knuckles turned white from how hard she held on. Grey eyes flashed with some emotion that was unreadable. Her mouth opened and she whispered something Cameron couldn't hear.

"What?" Cameron said, leaning down to hear the words Thirteen so desperately wanted to say.

Thirteen's breath hitched and she whimpered out, "I'm scared."

Cameron froze in shock, almost dropping her hand from it's impossibly tight grasp and knocking over attendees. Scared? She _admitted _being scared? Unable to say anything else she simply said, "It'll be okay."

"It'll be okay," she repeated firmly, trying to convince herself more than anything. Thirteen nodded weakly before her eyes rolled up once more and her grip slackened. Cameron was pushed out of the way as they rolled Thirteen from her view, taking her somewhere else. The whole world seemed to come to a stop as she stood there, crowded yet so alone, in the bustling hallway.

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**A.N. (Again) **I not sure if I'm very happy with this chapter. I felt like I lost the emotion and mood halfway through. Ahh well. I hope it's not too terribly mistake riddled or boring.

Review Please!


	5. Consequence

"There are some remedies worse than the disease. " ~Publilius Syrus

* * *

The first thing Thirteen was distinctively aware of was a piercing rhythm of sounds. A shrill beep surfaced first to her adjusting ears. Her breath whooshed in and out of her, giving her comfort and a sense of calm. She could hear the murmur of a crowd trying to be quiet. Her head felt like it was spinning around and around, and being unable to see only added to the effect. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The presumably white light of the room gave the skin of her eyelids a bright red glow, making it nearly impossible to sink in that pool of sleep she had just rose from. A clatter of footsteps grew louder and closer, and Thirteen struggled to open her eyes.

The footsteps fell short of her bed. It was followed by the click of a pen and rustling of paper. Thirteen tensed as her eyelids cracked open the tiniest fraction. The light stabbed her eyes, shooting pain through her skull. They watered from the dryness that accompanied having your eyes closed for a long time. She groaned weakly, pulling a hand up block out the light.

The room smelled of antiseptic and had the crisp sting of disinfectant. The bed she was spinning- no -laying on, had plastic side rails and thin sheets. She wore an over sized gown that rustled with every move. Her eyes were blurry from all of the white, but she knew one plus one equals two. She was in a hospital. What had she done last night?

"Welcome back, Dr. Hadley. You gave us quite a scare," a warm voice said followed by a snap. The voice sounded familiar. The light dimmed to a much less painless level. With her eyes adjusting, she saw blond hair and pink scrubs at the foot of her bed. Doctor Cameron was here? Again? Wait, again? The spinning had transferred to her head, and she was struggling to fill in the missing pieces.

Cameron smiled at her reassuringly, hanging up the clipboard she had been scribbling on. "Don't look so sad, I'm only here to check your injuries and sign you off to a neurologist." Thirteen smiled weakly, not understanding what she just said, and blinked several times to dispel the tears forming. The words took a moment to process before her smile faded into a confused frown.

"Injuries?" she asked blearily, fidgeting with her IV line. Cameron gently stopped her hand. Emerald green met aquamarine as their gazes locked. Thirteen felt her stomach flutter. Cameron broke away first, and reached into her pocket pulling out a plexor. Her hair fell in front of her face and she moved to test Thirteen's reflexes. The room was quiet as her arms and legs twitched. Her eyes closed, she always hated having her reflexes tested. It gave her a glimmer of the future, when those twitches would not be from a test.

She had almost forgotten her question when Cameron spoke up suddenly, "You had a broken nose, an epidural hematoma, and you stopped breathing from the combination of alcohol and trauma." Thirteen's eyes snapped open as she continued. She took a breath before saying, "Long story short, we only had to drill one burr hole to relieve the pressure. Which is why you have the bandage."

She made a motion to her forehead. Thirteen lifted her hand and felt the gauze that was taped to cover the hole in her skull. Memories were pulled back from the fog. Images came back slowly. Falling on her face and vomiting were the most prominent. Cameron continued seemingly not noticing her reaction.

"The operation was successful, and you just have to stay here 24 hours for observation. Some IV crystalloids are hooked up now to maintain an appropriate blood pressure, but you can look at everything yourself. Then you're _supposed _to take it easy, some but if you plan on coming back to work... " she finished awkwardly, leaving the sentence hanging. Thirteen was a bit overwhelmed, but the information slowly planted seeds in her mind.

Thirteen took a moment to observe Dr. Cameron closer as she processed. Her eyelids drooped and she had dark bags under her eyes. Most likely a late ER shift. Her pink scrubs stood out against the dull white of the closed blinds. Cameron looked so out of place standing in her room. It was silly, she knew. She was a doctor, she was in patient rooms all the time. Thirteen guessed she did the same thing she was currently; standing silently, watching for any reaction. Surprisingly, Thirteen's first emotion was curiosity. She felt the gauze again, almost self consciously before she spoke.

"Why?" she asked. It burst out of her mouth before she thought about it. She immediately flicked her eyes to the door and back. She felt a bit trapped by the contemplative gaze that was directed at her. It made her squirm.

"Typically, when you fall flat on your face-" Cameron started, attempting a witty comeback.

"No- I mean- I know, but why did you drive over to get me?" she wondered out loud, allowing Cameron no pleasure of a Housian comment. Her brow furrowed as much as it could without causing pain from her head wound. She was pretty sure she hadn't given her apartment complex address. Her eyes widened a bit before adding, "How did you know my address?"

Cameron stood awkwardly for a moment, seemingly thinking for the correct words. No doubt she was going to try and explain away the implications of stalking it brought. Her mouth opened to respond when the door opened with a bang. Thirteen jumped at the noise.

"If I'd known there was a party in here, I would've brought the camera!" a rough voice exclaimed. A cane poked through the door followed by a body and a head topped with messy gray hair. The one person Thirteen did not want to see.

House.

"We'd call it 'Doctors Gone Wild- With Sexual Preferences Revealed,'" He continued with a wag of his head. Cameron shot glared at him with narrowed eyes, clearly annoyed. "It's a working title," he exclaimed indignantly at her jutted out chin, crossed arms, and irritated expression. Thirteen merely watched the interaction with mild fascination. She had only watched them talk- if it could be called talking- at the rare times Cameron brought in a case. It helped her learn more about her boss.

"House," Cameron warned, clearly looking like she wanted to punch him. He stared at her for a moment, no doubt questioning her ability to attack him, before scratching his scruffy chin. Unfortunately for Thirteen, he turned to her and his eyes sparkled with unknown intentions.

"Did one of your bisexual buddies decide to knock some sense into you?" Thirteen merely stared at him, too tired to muster up any kind of response. Her eyes felt like they would close at any moment anyway. The only thing keeping her awake was the beeping coming from the heart monitor. Cameron rubbed her face tiredly, confirming Thirteen's earlier suspicions and mirroring her feelings.

He squinted at her a moment more before adding, "I forgot, you're probably too hopped up on the morphine to talk. We only give the best." He did an odd curtsy-like movement with his hand still clutching his cane. It looked like a bad pain day. His hand rested on his leg whenever he wasn't talking, and the bags under his red eyes told tales of alcohol, drugs, and little sleep. She could make out the faint outline of a bottle in his jacket pocket. Vicodin no doubt. "We could pump you up with some more, but it'll cost extra," he nodded with pursed lips. She didn't even bat an eye. Quite literally.

His face fell slightly as he rubbed his leg unconsciously, disappointed at her lack of response. Usually he could at least get an eye roll or sigh. Thirteen was just so exhausted. Her head was still hazy, with everything he said mixing and mashing until it was unrecognizable. Her eyes had stopped watering, but they were still sensitive to the bright white light. Her pupils were probably the size of House's ego. She smiled a little at her lame joke, before smothering it at Cameron's pointed look.

It was extinguished too late. House caught the flash amusement and mistook it for some sort of approval of his actions. His eyes lit up a little, and a mischievous smirk appeared on his face. His hand fished for something in his pocket, before emerging with a gleaming square of... something. Thirteen's eyes were burning again as she tried to focus on it unsuccessfully. She heard different beeping sound before he dropped his hand, and he started for the door.

"Don't you just love technology?" he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away with the mysterious object. Halfway out of the door he added, "Maybe they'll pre-order!"

"House!" Cameron cried, her face showing disbelief and horror. Thirteen was very confused. It had been a normal House comment, and yet she looked like a kid who had lost her lollipop. What was going on?

"What was that thing?" she asked, feeling very stupid.

"It was a camera," Cameron shot at her, looking panicked. "I'll be right back," she shouted over her shoulder, mirroring House as she jogged off after him.

"Shit," Thirteen swore. She had witnessed House's spectacular photo-shopping first hand, involving Cuddy and farm animals. Her stomach twisted into uneasy knots. She wanted to get up and run after House, but she couldn't. So she sat.

That plan last for about a minute, until she started to get antsy. She never liked sitting for too long. Especially when House was up to his games. It made her feel vulnerable. The rough sheets were making her itch, and the beeping of the heart monitor was grating on her nerves. She tried scratching her leg, but it got tangled in those God-damned sheets. It felt like ants or a spider was running up her leg, and it only intensified as she squirmed. Gritting her teeth to keep herself from screaming in frustration, she stopped moving.

It worked: for a second. The ants were back with such an intensity, it made her grumble and fist part of the sheet into a wad. Ripping the sheets off of her with her left hand, she sighed in relief as she scratched her calf. The cool air on her legs felt refreshing, waking up her skin and her mind. It felt awake for the first time since she woke up. She thought to herself how nice it would be to take a walk. Just down the hall of course.

She started disconnecting the heart monitors and clipped the one off her finger. Swinging her legs off of the bed, she braced herself for standing on the floor. Head injuries usually led to dizziness upon standing, making her walk potentially lethal. It can't be worse than when she had long night and little sleep after a 21 hour shift, could it? It didn't matter anyway, she was already sliding off of the bed to stand. Her feet touched the freezing cold floor and she took in a deep breath.

Adjusting what they call a gown, the tug on her hand reminded her of her IV. Reaching over, she clutched the stand that was laden with three bags. Slowly, she put full weight on each leg. Gradually shifting, she was finally standing up. The room wasn't spinning so badly, just enough to be a mild nuisance instead of a crippling handicap.

Her bare feet made soft pattering sounds as she walked into the hallway, the beeping of the monitors diminishing behind her. Nurses swarmed around the desk as other doctors effortlessly flowed through the crowd. It was a practiced dance, only disrupted by the occasional patients. People had to swerve to avoid her and her IV stand as she walked down the hallway. They ruffled their papers, all so intent on doing their job. Not a soul spared her a second glance. Odd, but comforting to the young doctor.

The crisp sting of disinfectant diminished as she walked. As she walked down the hallway, she could catch the sweet smell of cookies, or other gifts to patients. Families were gathered around their loved ones, teary-eyed or hopeful and happy. Thirteen felt a slight pang of jealousy, and looked away sharply. Brushing past another patient, she headed for a set glass doors.

The reminder of her history made her downcast and pained. She just wanted to get away from the memories. Not caring for her location, she burst through the glass while walking as fast as she could.

* * *

**A.N. I know, I know, extremely overdue update. I also know it should have been a lot better, longer, etc. It definitely wasn't my best. Anyway, I feel like I should give you some long rambling apology/excuse for my lack of updates, but, I'm not good at that stuff. So, here goes:**

**Dear Amazingly Awesome Readers, (Daar)  
**

**I apologize for not updating in about 3 months. Please forgive me?**

**Love,**

**YDPP :/**

**How was it? Did it work? I hope so. Feel free to drop reading this if you are unsatisfied with my updating skills and my declining writing skills.  
**

**_A Special Thanks to _Birth****..Phoenix, _whose super 5 page long review/message revived me. _  
**


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